


My Silent Pleas

by catsandladyluck



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell, Fangirl - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Bond AU - Freeform, M/M, Seventh year, SnowBaz, Watford AU, carry on au, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-23 06:55:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10714470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catsandladyluck/pseuds/catsandladyluck
Summary: “We are going to be learning a basic communication spell,” Miss Possibelf said. “This spell will allow you to connect with someone for a brief moment, and be able to write notes to each other on your skin. Wherever you write on your own body will appear in the same spot as the person you are connected with.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You guys asked for it :D And here it is!   
> This was inspired from a Snowbaz Soulmate AU prompt I received on tumblr. But instead of Soulmate AU, I kind of made it more of a Bond AU!   
> Anyway! PRESENTING THIS FIC! Please enjoy (:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! :D Here it is! Chapter 1!!! ENJOY

**Prologue**

 

Words are power. Words are control. Every lyric, every rhyme, every flick of the tongue; All working together to draw up the magick that flows through every student and teacher at Watford. Words are the air they breathe. The energy they thrive on. The atmosphere they live in. Words are the very being of their existence.

But Simon Snow has never been great with words. His power is far greater than any magician the World of Mages have ever seen. But such power does not come to him so easily. Such words do not roll off of his tongue, nor flow through him like a fountain. He struggles and stutters through every line and every spell, causing many to backfire on him. Sometimes setting his books aflame or his desk left in crumbles.

Simon has never been great with words. And he knows this. Penny knows this. Every student and teacher at Watford knows this. And even Baz knows this. Baz knows this far too well.

 

**1**

 

It had been a month into the semester of Simon’s seventh year at Watford, and he had already been dozing off in the middle of class. Miss Possibelf had tasked the class with reading through an old textbook on the basics of communication spells and taking notes over the process. But Simon had not slept properly the night before. Baz had stayed out of the room for most of the night, and Simon couldn’t let himself fall asleep until Baz had come back. He felt vulnerable whenever he fell asleep first, like Baz could attack him in his sleep at any moment. And finally at 3am, when Baz had come back to the room and Simon made sure he had fallen asleep, he let himself sleep as well. Only for his alarm to wake him up three hours later.

“Psst, Simon,” Penny whispered next to him. She nudged him in the side, and he opened his eyes. “Wake up.”

“Wha-? I’m not sleeping,” he whispered back, but his voice was groggy, and there were dark circles forming under his eyes.

“You can’t fool me. You have got to start sleeping at night, Simon.”

Simon frowned at her and rested his chin on his palm. “I can’t sleep, Penny. And you know why.”

Penny tsk’d him. “Baz is not plotting to kill you, Simon. If he was, he would have done so already.”

Simon frowned. “But Penny-”

“Mr. Snow. Miss Bunce,” Miss Possibelf spoke up suddenly. “I take it you have completed your notes?”

“Yes, Miss Possibelf,” Penny said. “But I did have a question.”

“Of course. Bring it up here, then, please.”

Penny grabbed her textbook off the desk and hastily made her way up to Miss Possibelf’s desk. Simon tried to take this moment to briefly skim over the parts of his textbook he had missed when he had been dozing, but a movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. He glanced over to the other side of the classroom, where Baz was sitting, and he watched Baz as he ran a hand through his hair.

_ It’s not fair _ , Simon thought. Baz had only gotten the same amount of sleep as him, yet he didn’t look like a missed a single minute. His hair was perfectly in place, as it has always been, and he sat so focused at his desk as he scribbled down note after note from his textbook.  _ It’s really not fair at all. _

Less than a minute later, Penny returned to her seat, and Miss Possibelf  stood up from her desk.

“Okay, class,” she announced. “We will continue taking notes later on in the class period. But for now, we are going try a hands-on approach.”

A wave of textbooks began to close, and many students who had looked bored before were now paying close attention. Miss Possibelf picked up her chalk from her desk and began to write on the board.

“We are going to be learning a basic communication spell,” she said. “This spell will allow you to connect with someone for a brief moment, and be able to write notes to each other on your skin. Wherever you write on your own body will appear in the same spot as the person you are connected with.”

There were a few giggles throughout the classroom, and Miss Possibelf briefly paused her writing to face the class. “I will not have any tomfoolery with this spell. You are all seventh years, and I expect you to act as such. Now,” she turned back to face the board and continued her writing. “This one requires the least amount of training out of any communication spells, and the word flow is very common. So it should be quite simple to cast. However,” she placed down the chalk and stepped to the side of the board. “Any spell can be easily botched, so please pay attention to my directions.”

Simon immediately groaned inwardly. He knew she must be directing that last part at him. He always seemed to fuck up the easiest of spells, no matter how foolproof they may be. He had never been good with word flow.

“Now, for this spell, you will be working with a partner.”

This caused the class to come to life with excitement. Many students started looking across the room and meet each other’s gazes, nodding in agreement on who they would be partners with. Penny nudged Simon in the arm and smiled at him.

“Not so fast,” Miss Possibelf snapped. “ _ I _ will be assigning your partners.”

The brief energy of the classroom died down with a simultaneous groan. 

“I don’t want to hear it. Spells can be easily messed up when you feel too relaxed with your friends. That’s why I am choosing. Now, everybody up. As I call your pairs, I want you to sit at the desk that I pick for you.”

There was an array of movement, the scraping of chairs and textbooks sliding across desks. The students gathered around the edge of the classroom, waiting irritably on Miss Possibelf to call their names.

_ Fucking great, _ Simon thought. Just another person for him to fuck up his spells with. At least whenever he messed up with Penny, she wouldn’t get angry at him. She would try to calm him down and explain the best way for him to cast it.

He knew, at least, that Miss Possibelf wouldn’t partner him up with Baz. He had only been Baz’s partner in Magickal Words once, during their second year. Their assignment had been to learn a simple finding spell,  **_Fine toothed comb_ ** , to use for searching through books for a specific word or phrase. Except Baz had continuously prodded at Simon throughout the entire lecture, and Simon had become so irritated that when he actually managed to cast the spell, he set his and every other student’s textbook aflame. Miss Possibelf kept them separated ever since, and Simon thanked Magick for it.

Simon watched as Penny winced when she was partnered with Gareth, and then watched as Agatha was partnered with Trixie, and Dev with Keris, and so on. 

“Mr. Pitch,” Miss Possibelf said. Simon quickly glanced at Baz, and then around the room. There were still plenty of un-partnered students left, so he had no idea whom the poor soul that got partnered with Baz would be. “At this desk in the front, please.” Baz immediately walked towards to front of the room. “And you will be partnered with… Mr. Snow.”

Simon wanted to wince. “But Miss Possibelf,” he protested immediately. “Don’t you remember-?”

“I don’t want to hear about, Mr. Snow. Front desk, please.”

_Fucking great,_ Simon thought. _Bloody fucking great._ _It’s going to be second year all over again_. He glanced over at Penny from across the room, who was shrugging and giving him a sympathetic look. He then trudged over to the front of the classroom, dropped his stuff onto his desk next to Baz, and plopped down in his seat.

“Hmph. Baz,” he said.

“Snow,” Baz said back, smirking. “Please don’t set my skin on fire this year.” It wasn’t a plea. Baz’s voice was practically dripping with sarcasm and malice, almost as if he was asking Simon to do just that. 

“I think I just might,” Simon said in return. “Just to spite you.”

“I wouldn’t put it past you.”

Simon said nothing, just watched irritably as Baz sat his notes out on top of his textbook and laid his wand out next to them. Simon couldn’t believe Miss Possibelf put the two of them together. After all the years of purposely avoiding the pairing. He couldn’t stand being so close to Baz, especially since he already had to share a room with him. And their beds were far too close together. Simon hated it, and he knew that Baz had felt the same way; no matter how calm, cool, and collected Baz seemed to be. Simon just couldn’t stand it.

“Alright, class. Now that you all have settled, please begin by reading through the spell I have written on the board. Do not cast any spells yet. Please thoroughly read it, feel the flow of the words, and discuss this with your partner.”

Simon rolled his eyes and looked at the board. The spell was short and simple:  **_I cast you these, my silent pleas._ ** But no matter how easy it seemed, he had a bad feeling he was going to fuck it up. 

“Don’t fuck it up, Snow,” Baz whispered, as if almost reading Simon’s mind.

“Fuck off, Baz,” Simon whispered back. “We’re supposed to be discussing the spell.”

“What’s there to discuss? I’m going to cast it perfectly, and you’re just going to fuck it up.”

“Mr. Pitch,” Miss Possibelf said shrilly. “I assume you would like to demonstrate this spell first, considering you and Mr. Snow don’t seem to care to discuss it?”

Baz frowned at Simon, then turned his head and gave Miss Possibelf a sickeningly sweet smile. “With pleasure, Miss Possibelf.”

Simon frowned at him.  _ Baz is always like this, _ he thought. Cruel only to him. Fakely kind to everyone else. And Simon knew the kindness was faked.  _ Baz doesn’t have a nice bone in his body,  _ he thought.

“Very well, Mr. Pitch. Now, class, you will learn that many communication spells often start at the same way, just like this spell. To begin, you must first have a clear image in your mind of the person you want to connect with. Picturing their faces tends to work fine, but if there is a memory or feeling tied to that image, your connection becomes stronger and can last up to twice as long. Use whichever you deem is appropriate.

“Now Mr. Pitch, create a clear image of Mr. Snow in your mind, as well as a feeling or memory. Take as much time as you need. And then when you’re ready, cast the spell with extreme focus and place your wand on any part of your skin.”

Simon frowned when Baz closed his eyes. He did not want to think about Baz imagining some crazy image of him. Or what memory he would attach it with. Or what terrible feeling he thought of.  _ He’s probably imagining the time he pushed me down the stairs. Or when he punched me in the face. Or maybe when he  _ **_Cat got your tongue_ ** _ ’d me in third year.  _ Simon frowned even more.

Baz opened his eyes slowly, then placed the back side of his hand on the table and held his wand over it. He glanced quickly at Simon, almost too quickly for Simon to notice. But Simon did notice, and it just pissed him off.

“ **_I cast you these_ ** ,  **_my silent pleas_ ** ,” Baz said smoothly. Simon always hated the way Baz spoke when he was casting a spell. His voice came out far too gently then what Simon was used to. It was smooth and calm; it felt fake, just like his kindness. It didn’t suit Baz at all.

Simon watched then as Baz touched his wand gently into the center of his palm, and held it there for a brief moment. Simon felt a warm tingling sensation in the center of his own palm, and then small pulses that began to radiate throughout his arm.  _ Baz’s magick,  _ Simon thought. _ Why is does it feel so warm? _

Baz removed his wand from his palm and clenched his hand into various fists. Simon did the same. It felt so strange to Simon, Baz’s magick.  _ Like fire, _ he thought. And then he wondered briefly as to what his magick might have felt like to Baz.

“Alright, Mr. Pitch. It seems you are connected. Try to write something on your skin to Mr. Snow.” 

Baz picked up his pen and wrote on the back of his hand. Simon watched his own hand carefully until he saw the words start to fizzle in, as if they were being burned right into his skin.

 

_ Baz Pitch _

 

The name appeared in overly posh handwriting and took up most of the back side of Simon’s hand. Simon frowned and furrowed his eyebrows at it.  _ The git wrote his own fucking name! _ He thought.  _ How fucking pretentious. _ He then looked at Baz, who was smirking at him.

“Ah! Well done, well done,” Miss Possibelf praised. “Mr. Snow, do write something on your skin now.” Miss Possibelf turns back to the class. “Alright, class, now everyone on the left side of your group, give it a try.”

Simon ignored the random shouting as to which side of the classroom Miss Possibelf had meant, and pulled back the sleeve of his shirt. He wrote sideways along his wrist, in large, messy letters.

 

_ Simon Snow _

 

He then turned and watched Baz pull up the sleeve of his own shirt. The letters fizzled in very quickly, and Baz stared at them for a few seconds before frowning.

“Your handwriting is a disaster, Snow.” 

“Fuck off,” Simon said back. 

“How is this spell even useful for you if someone else can’t even read your own handwriting?”

“I said ‘fuck off’.” Simon grew even more irritable by the minute. He tried hard to control is anger, but Baz continued to prod at him. At the rate they were headed, they would be lucky to even have skin after Simon casted the spell.

“Very good, class,” Miss Possible announced. “As soon as your spells wear off, the other partner will then cast.”

Simon stared at the back of his hand intensely. He tried to remain calm as he watched for Baz’s ink to disappear.

“Crowley, please don’t blow us up,” Baz said as he stared at his own hand.

“Have I ever blown us up before?”

“There is a first time for everything.”

“Baz, if you don’t shut up, this  _ will _ be the first time.”

Baz didn’t comment back, partially due to the spell wearing off and each other’s writing fizzling out. It only left their own handwriting behind.

Simon grabbed his wand and closed his eyes. He dreaded this part. He didn’t want to think about Baz when he didn’t have to. But he found it no trouble to imagine him so clearly. He imagined him sneering, like Baz always seemed to be doing. He didn’t bother adding a memory or feeling to it; he didn’t want the spell to last long.

Simon opened his eyes and placed his wand over his wrist. He tried to pull his magic up through his arms, but it was hesitant. Simon felt his grip on it loosening and then tightening, like a tide going in and out. 

“Having trouble with your magick, Snow?” Baz commented.

“Shut up, Baz,” Simon snapped. He tried to focus and pull at his magick again. But this time it felt as if it had started leaking out through his shoulder.

“The Chosen One can’t cast a simple spell?”

“Fuck off.” Simon was losing focus. He felt his magick going everywhere.

“I simply can’t believe that.”

“ **_I cast you these, my silent pleas_ ** ,” Simon ground out through closed teeth. And as he touched his wand to his wrist, a sharp pain shot up through his arm that caused him to flinch. 

“Fuck!” His wand hit the floor, and he instinctively touched his arm.

“Crowley, Snow!” Baz exclaimed from beside him. He was holding his own wrist as well. “What the fuck was that?”

“I don’t bloody know!” Simon hissed back at him.

“Boys, language,” Miss Possibelf snapped from the side of the room.

Simon ignored her and reached down to pick his wand up off the floor. Baz’s glare was on him like daggers when he rose back up in his seat. 

“Are you trying to kill me?” Baz snapped. 

“You would just  _ love _ that, wouldn’t you?”

Baz didn’t react to Simon’s comment, and instead replied, “Did the bloody spell even work?”

Neither of them spoke for a moment, focusing their attention on their arms; trying to feel for the pulsing sensation. Simon felt his wrist start to throb, but it was more intense than before. He picked up his pen and wrote along his forearm.

 

_ Simon Snow _

 

It was even messier than the one of his wrist.

He turned to look at Baz, who had pulled back his sleeve even further and was watching his skin intently. The words appeared almost instantly, and Baz frowned at them. He then picked up his own pen and wrote underneath Simon’s name.

 

_ Idiot. _

 

Simon frowned as well when the word appeared. Even when writing insults, Baz spared no cost at penmanship. Simon wrote back:

 

_ Fuck you. _

 

Baz rolled his eyes and began to roll up his sleeve. 

“At least it worked,” Simon said.

“I’m shocked,” Baz snarked, his voice deep in sarcasm.

“Sod off. I didn’t blow us up.”

“That might be true, Snow. But-”

“Alright, class,” Miss Possibelf announced, cutting Baz off. “Time is up for today. We will continue our notes on Monday at the start of class. You are dismissed.”

Simon immediately gathered his stuff and left his desk, not wanting to bother with Baz any longer. He met up with Penny outside of the hallway, and they immediately headed towards the Great Hall for tea.  

“So what happened?” Penny asked on their walk.

Simon groaned and rolled down his sleeve. “Baz is a bloody git.”

Penny let out a slight huff. “I know that, Simon. I mean, how did the spell go?”

“Oh, well, it worked. But it fucking hurt.”

Penny raised her eyebrows at this. “It hurt?”

“Baz was pissing me off. And I had a hard time with focusing my magick. I must have miscast it.”

“But it still worked?”

“It did.”

“Interesting.”

The rest of the day flew by. Tea had passed as usual; Simon devoured his scones and Penny tsk’d him as he did. Studying in the library afterwards even went by without any oddities. After dinner had finished, Simon went back up to his room to finish his homework so he didn’t have to trouble with it over the weekend. When he arrived, Baz wasn’t there.  _ Thank magick, _ Simon thought. He really didn’t want to have to deal with Baz anymore that day than he already had to. He took this opportunity to take a shower; he hadn’t washed the ink off his arm yet, and he desperately needed to relax. 

Once in the bathroom, Simon unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it onto the floor. He let his gaze pass over his arm, taking in the details of the ink. He noticed that all of Baz’s words had faded away, leaving only his handwriting. He traced over his name on his forearm.  _ Baz was right about one thing _ .  _ My handwriting is terrible. _

And that was when he noticed it. Something he knew for sure he hadn’t written. Four words written in perfect cursive, right along his wrist below his name: 

 

_ Snow, you fucked up. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to chapter 2! :D 
> 
> NOTE: This chapter is NOT complete yet. I am dealing with the WORST case of writer's block I've ever experience, but I wanted to give you guys something. So I'm posting the first part of this chapter, and I will update it later as it gets finished. 
> 
> Please bear with me and enjoy (:

**2**

 

Simon stared at the words along his wrist for what felt like hours to him, as if he could absolutely not believe what he was seeing. The ink looked so clean and fresh, as if it had just been written.

 

_ Snow, you fucked up. _

 

But he hadn’t written it; of course not. It was in Baz’s same dreadfully posh cursive, and it stood out on his skin like a diamond in the dirt that was his own disastrous penmanship. But Baz hadn’t written this message to him in class, and the rest of his writing had disappeared entirely from Simon’s skin. Which must have meant that…

Simon wetted a washcloth and scrubbed it over his wrist. Because he still couldn’t quite believe it. The ink from his name smeared around and then disappeared, but the four beautifully written words did not. They remained as pristine as ever. 

He threw the cloth into the sink and rushed out of the bathroom, grabbing for the most immediate pen that he could find; from Baz’s desk. He patted away the moisture from his wrist and wrote below the remaining words.

 

_ Baz? _

 

The ink hadn’t even dried before there was a reply.

 

_ No shit, Sherlock. _

 

“Fuck,” Simon cursed aloud. That meant he actually had fucked up the spell after all; their connection should had faded hours ago. He closed his eyes and focused on his arm, trying to feel if Baz’s magick was still present.  _ Fuck, the pulse is still there,  _ he thought. _ How did I not feel it sooner?  _

Simon grimaced. He really did not want to be connected to Baz. It wasn’t enough that he already had to share a room with him and half of his classes. Nor was it enough that he had to be partners with him in the only class he knew he would never have to be paired up with him in.  _ But no. To make it all worse, I have to be bloody connected to him through some shit spell I fucked up. _

Simon opened his eyes right when the door to the room flung open. Baz caught sight of him immediately and frowned.

“What the fuck are doing by my desk, Snow?” he snapped.

“I needed a bloody pen,” Simon snapped back.

“And you don’t have any bloody pens on your own desk?”

“I do,” he replied, and Baz raised an eyebrow. “Ugh. Sod off.”

But Baz made no signs of moving. He stood directly in the open doorway, a sneer on his face and his eyebrow plastered so high on his forehead that Simon wasn’t sure if it hadn’t been permanently stuck there. And it wasn’t until Simon tossed the pen back onto Baz’s desk and walked over to his own that Baz finally stepped into the room. 

“You need to fix this spell, Snow,” Baz said, his voice bitter. He tossed his bag onto his bed and sat down beside it. Simon watched as Baz pushed a hand through his hair, the strands immediately falling back into place. And then Simon noticed that Baz’s sleeve had been pushed all the way up to his elbow, and the messy and smeared ink that hadn’t been washed off yet was still on his forearm.

“I don’t know how to fix it,” he replied. He pulled out his desk chair and sat in it sideways, then stared down at the writing on his wrist.

“You’re the  _ Chosen One _ ,” Baz snarked with sarcasm. “Surely you can just think it undone, and it will happen.”

Simon frowned; he hated being called the “Chosen One”, particularly when Baz was the one calling him that. “You know that’s not how it works.”

“You’re right, Snow. I give you far too much credit. Because you simply just blow everything up.” 

“I don’t always blow everything up.”

Baz sighed deeply and ran his hand through his hair again. “Really, I’m surprised we both still have arms right now. Although I can’t say for how long.”

“I’m sure there’s a counter-spell.”

“You better find it.”

“You’re not going to help?”

“Of course not. I’m not the one that botched up such a simple spell.”

Simon felt his anger rising. “But you’re part of this too!” He held up his wrist. “We’re fucking connected.”

Baz crossed his arms and sighed even deeper than before. “Fine, Snow,” he said. “I will also look for a counter-spell. But I’m not going to help you. You probably wouldn’t even know where to find one anyway.” 

Simon furrowed his eyebrows. “I’m going to ask Miss Possibelf about it on Monday.”

“Ask her tomorrow. The less time I have to be connected to you, the better.”

Simon released the back of the chair he didn’t realize he had been gripping. He immediately stood up and stalked into the bathroom with a huff. “Whatever, Baz,” he said, and slammed the door. 

He stood there in front of the bathroom mirror, gripping the edge of the sink in frustration. He felt his magick push against his insides, as if begging for escape, and he tried to breathe deeply to calm it. He glared at the writing on his arm through the mirror and picked up the damp washcloth. He scrubbed his skin far too harshly, removing his own ink. Baz’s handwriting still remained along his wrist, however, and he even scrubbed over it with slim hopes that it would come off too. It didn’t. 

Simon heard the door to their room slam suddenly, so he peaked out from the bathroom. Baz was gone.  _ And he took his bag as well,  _ he thought.  _ He won’t be back for hours.  _ He sighed.  _ Thank magick.  _ But Simon did not feel relieved one bit; in truth, he had never been more frustrated.

 

~

 

Simon had been sitting on his bed for hour after hour, waiting. Staring. At the elegant lines along his wrist. He had been gazing at them since his shower. Baz’s words had been etched so perfectly. The writing itself had disappeared almost half an hour ago, but Simon continued to stare as if the ink had left a permanent imprint on his skin.

He gripped a pen in his right hand, and he fought with himself on whether or not he should just write to Baz to ask him where he was.  _ He’s off plotting, of course, _ a part of his mind kept telling him.  _ Or feeding on helpless victims,  _ another part added.  _ Or maybe he’s just studying, Simon, _ came a voice from the back of his head that sounded an awful lot like Penny. But even so, Simon wanted to know for sure. Because Baz would never tell him if he asked. But maybe he would. Maybe if he wrote to him, he would write back.  _ Just maybe.  _ So Simon pressed the tip of the pen to his wrist and started writing.

 

_ Where are _

 

But he stopped. He couldn’t finish it.  _ There’s no way Baz would bother writing back,  _ he thought.  _ It’s pointless. _ He licked his thumb and started to wipe the words away. The ink smeared all along his wrist, leaving a giant patch of black on his skin. But the words were gone, so he didn’t think anything more of it. 

Simon laid back on his bed and yawned.  _ It’s 2am, so Baz should be back in an hour, like usual. I should probably start on my homework. _ But not a second after that thought, Simon drifted off to sleep.

 

~

 

(chapter to be continued)

**Author's Note:**

> All characters belong to the lovely Rainbow Rowell.
> 
> Follow me on tumblr: @carryonsimoncarryon  
> And my beta: @baz-n-simon


End file.
